Hold Me Until Tomorrow
by NCCJFAN
Summary: Sometimes it's what you lose that makes you realize what you want the most. Definitely JW, with no JD.
1. Two Weeks Isn’t Long Enough

**Chapter One**

**Two Weeks Isn't Long Enough**

_Two weeks_….Jordan thought to herself as she threw some clothes into a suitcase, _two weeks away…on a warm beach somewhere…without a care in the world…_

It had been years since she had taken a vacation. Truth was, she had never really had a reason to. She hated traveling by herself, but there hadn't been anyone she wanted to really go with. At least until lately.

This past year, she would have loved to have gone somewhere with Woody…but time and circumstances being what they were…the shooting and his sudden and complete rejection of her, that wasn't likely to happen in this lifetime…_or in another_, she thought dejectedly as she packed her bikini.

It wasn't likely to happen because not only had Woody pushed her out of his life, barely talking to her, hardly putting up with her presence, but he had found someone else. A police psychologist. Lu. Jordan winced at the memory of the woman…slight, blonde…smart.

And helping Woody get over his injuries in ways Jordan had only hoped to do herself.

After weeks of putting up with Woody using her for his own benefit to find Riggs, or to further some really tough case…coupled with his bad temper and all the fall out she suffered from that, Jordan decided she needed to get away from the morgue for a while. To take stock of herself…find her mental and emotional footing again.

A decision that Garret had wholeheartedly endorsed. "Just come back home," he made her promise. "Don't let what Woody's trying to do to you make you want to run away. Please? Promise me you won't run, Jordan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I promise. Just give me two weeks and I'll come back home," she told her boss.

So it was a done deal. Her vacation leave approved, Jordan had booked a ticket to St. Thomas, hoping the sun, sand, surf, and a few margaritas would help wash the memory of a certain detective away…or at least make him fade from her remembrance a little bit.

She sighed as she slammed her suitcase shut. There may not be enough alcohol in the islands to do that, she silently admitted to herself. She tugged the suitcase to the door and called a cab to take her to the airport. The sooner she left the sooner she could begin forgetting. And maybe even forgiving, too.

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"Where's Jordan?" Woody asked Bug, who was coming out of the doors of trace.

"Jordan? She's on vacation."

"Jordan's on vacation? She never takes vacation…Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure, Woody. She asked Dr. Macy for two weeks off and she flies out this morning."

"Two weeks? But we have the Thomlinson case coming up…"

Bug stopped and looked Woody over. The detective's perpetually bad attitude was driving nearly everyone crazy, but Bug was sure that Jordan was catching the brunt of his temper. She hadn't said a word, but he had noticed the worried look on her face when she caught a call from Woody…and the tension that reflected in her voice when the detective called. Gone were the days of light-hearted banter, the dating dance they used to do while everyone else looked on in amusement. Nowadays Woody was a bitter, hard, cynical man and the object of all his frustration seemed to be the brown-eyed ME, although Bug was hard pressed to identify just exactly what Jordan had done to deserve all of Woody's bad temper.

Besides finally admitting her feelings to Woody, that is.

"Woody…Jordan briefed Dr. Macy fully on the case before she left. They spent several hours going over it with Renee' Walcott yesterday. The case will be fine. She gave her signed deposition and turned over all her reports. You don't need her," Bug said. _You don't need her in more ways than just the Thomlinson case, so just let her go, you bastard…_

"Can we get in touch with her in case something happens and we do?"

Determined that Jordan was going to have some well-deserved time off, Bug hardened his expression and his voice. "No. Jordan's cell phone signal can't be reached in St. Thomas and we have no idea where she's staying…"

"St. Thomas?"

"Yes, St. Thomas, you twit. She hasn't taken a vacation in years and she deserves this time to rest…"

"But the case…"

"Woody," Bug said now thoroughly frustrated with the narrow-minded and ill-tempered detective, "people have a life outside of this morgue….outside of work. If you don't realize that, then maybe you need to get a life, too."

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The cab pulled up in front of the airport terminal and Jordan got out. The driver handed off her luggage and she headed to the counter to check in her luggage and wait until time to board the plane. After checking in her bags, she browsed through the kiosks and basically killed time until time to get on the plane and fly off into the wild, blue, yonder for two weeks of sun and fun.

But the three cups of coffee she had before she left her apartment began to make themselves known. Finding the ladies room, she slipped inside, thankful she had enough time to make herself comfortable before she had to board.

However, the woman inside the restroom holding her chest caught Jordan's attention. It was the classic sign of a heart attack, even if the woman, who was dressed in plain attire, was a little young to be having such a condition.

"Ma'am, are you all right?" Jordan asked. "I'm a doctor…can I help you?"

"I'm fine…I think…" she was seemingly gasping for breath.

"I don't know…let me have a look…" Jordan tried to push the woman's arms away from her chest to give a cursory exam of the woman before calling for the airport doctor. The situation and the woman's possible condition engrossed Jordan's complete attention….

And the woman was the last thing Jordan remembered. A sharp crack on her head from behind obliterated all thoughts and anything in her line of vision. "I've just been mugged," was her last conscious thought before complete and total darkness took over and her body hit the cold tile of the restroom with a thud.

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_Two weeks later…_

"Has Jordan come in yet?" Garret asked Lily. "She's due in first thing this morning and I need her in autopsy one."

"Not yet, Garret. I'll let you know as soon as I see her," Lily replied.

"Yeah, please do. Meanwhile, try her cell phone and her apartment phone to check and see if she overslept or something."

"Will do."

But the calls came up empty. "She's not answering," Lily told Garret a few minutes later.

"What about her flights? Are they late?"

"I'll have Nigel check…"

A few minutes later, that search had turned up fruitless, too. The plane had departed from St. Thomas on time and landed without delay.

"Where can she be?" Garret sighed, irritably. A dark, niggling fear was tickling the back of his mind. He hadn't heard from Jordan the entire time she was on vacation. And that was unusual – at least Garret thought so, anyway. Jordan was known to call in on her day off if an autopsy was pending…or if there was an open case that was giving them a fit. So for her to be gone two weeks …and not to even phone in once during that time to check on the Thomlinson case, appeared to Garret to be highly unusual. Too out of character for Jordan Cavanaugh, defender of justice…voice of the dead…. The chief ME had hoped that maybe she had finally learned to relax and let go…think of nothing but herself for two weeks.

But knowing Jordan Cavanaugh as well as he did, that seemed highly improbable.

"I hope to God she hasn't run…she promised me she wouldn't," Garret muttered to himself. "I'll give her a few more hours…"

Those hours proved fruitless, too. She didn't call or show up at the morgue. Sighing, Garret finally picked up the phone and called all of Jordan's former bosses, to see if she had been nosing around her old haunts, hoping to pick up a job.

Nothing.

Feeling nearly defeated, he picked up the phone again and called Vegas…to speak to Danny. He knew Jordan and the casino security officer had been talking…and that she had gone out to there to see him at least once on one of her off weekends. Danny hadn't heard a word from her, either. Indeed, he didn't even know Jordan had decided to take a vacation.

Now feeling more than concerned…nearly frantic…Garret punched Nigel's intercom button. "Nigel…can you find out anything else about Jordan's flight?"

"I'll check, Dr. Macy. Still no word from her yet?"

"No….just…get back to me as soon as possible…"

Nigel wasn't long getting back to Garret. Pale and worry etched across his face, he soon knocked at Dr. Macy's door. "Her tickets…she never picked up her e-tickets at the airline counter. They have no record of her ever boarding the plane."


	2. Cleansing Jordan

**Disclaimer: I forgot it on the first chapter. Don't own them Probably never will….but if I did, all chaos would ensue.**

**Chapter Two**

**Cleansing Jordan**

_Oh…my head…_ was Jordan's first coherent thought, as she rolled over, sat up, and held her head in her hands. Tentatively, she reached around to the back of her head and felt the goose-egg sized knot on the back of it. It was squishy and she felt a wave of nausea hit her. She choked it down until she could get some kind of bearing on where she was at.

Which at the present was hard to determine. It was dark where she was at. Cautiously she reached out a hand and felt a wall on one side…then she tried with the other arm and encountered another wall.

Wherever she was at, it was small…and warm….She fought back another wave of nausea. A concussion. Whoever hit her had given her a concussion, she was sure of it.

_This is a hell of a way to begin a vacation_, she thought. _Whoever it was that mugged me must have thrown me in some storage closet…so much for stepped-up airport security…I sure hope I can get another ticket to fly out today…_ Slowly she felt around the tiny space until she found what she thought was the door. Banging on it with all her strength and still battling the nausea, she called out, "Let me out…someone open the door and let me out….please."

She heard voices and footsteps. _Thank God…someone is coming…_The door swung open and Jordan winced at the sudden shaft of bright light that hit her eyes. "Hey…someone in your airport mugged me and threw me in this closet," she said to the figure standing in the middle of the shaft of light, holding her hand over her eyes to try to make out exactly who it was…and if it was per chance airport security, give them a piece of her mind.

"Mugged you, Dr. Cavanaugh?" the voice asked from above her.

_How the hell does he know my name?_ she fleetingly wondered. And then it hit her.

This was no ordinary mugging.

"Who are you and where the hell am I at?" she asked, keeping a belligerent tone in her voice. _Never let them see a weakness…_

"Me? That's not necessary for you to know right now, Dr. Cavanaugh. As for where you're at…let's just say it's a sanctuary for you."

"Sanctuary? What kind of sanctuary?"

"The kind where you can find peace…

"I was on my way to St. Thomas to find that. If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way." Jordan stood, but the pain in her head made her stumble.

"Ah. Your head. I'm sorry about that. I think Belinda hit you harder than she needed to…but you'll be okay. The pain will go away soon and you'll adjust to your new home just fine."

"New home?" Jordan was beginning to feel more uneasy every moment. The man…or what she could see of him…was large…imposing...strong, and muscular. There was no way she could run through him…or get around him…and from what she could tell there was a crowd of people behind him. She didn't see a way out at the present.

"Yes. New home…and we're glad to have you."

"But I have a home."

"You had a home…an old home. This is your new home and it will be so much better for you here…."

"And how's that?"

The man took her by the arm and pulled her from the closet into the bright light of the hallway. "Because you now have a family…These," he motioned to the women who were crowding around them, "are your new sisters…."

Jordan swallowed hard. "And you are?"

"Someone sent here to save you."

"Save me?"

"Yes." The man smiled at her. "Save you. Save your immortal soul. You should feel incredibly lucky that they chose you."

Jordan knew she had a concussion and was having a hard time keeping up, but this was making little sense to her. "I don't understand…."

"I don't expect you to right now…" The man took her downstairs to a large den and sat her down. "See, it's like this. My daughters were looking for someone…someone like you…who was alone…that needed all the sin and evilness cleansed from her…and they saw you at the airport and decided you were the one that needed saving today. So they brought you here…"

"Here?"

"To our home," the man said taking Jordan's hand. "Don't you understand? My daughters want to purify you so that you can become their sister…"

"You…to purify me? And who are you?"

"I told you…I am here to help you…and I'm here to save your soul…"

* * *

Jordan remembered little after that for a few days. The nausea and the knowledge that she had been kidnapped both joined together and welled up in her with such force that she spend the next several hours in the bathroom trying to make sense of it all. Trying to understand exactly where she was at and what was going to happen to her.

The _where_ was hard to get a grip on. It was an old house…apparently an old farm house out in the middle of nowhere. The windows were covered with dark shades and curtains. Her bedroom, which she shared with six other women, had no openings other than the door that led into the hallway. She was not allowed outside and was watched constantly as her "savior" and her "sisters" got on with the process of "purifying her soul."

A process that meant little sleep, little food, and even less water. Jordan was well aware that whoever it was that had her…whatever this group called themselves, they were attempting to bend her will to theirs…in short, brainwash her.

And she fought it with everything she had…but she also knew the odds were against her. Garret and the others wouldn't be alarmed at her absence until her two week vacation was over and she didn't show back up at work…and by that time, it may be too late. She may have weakened enough to succumb to this group's desires, or she may die from lack of food and water.

Or be weakened by other means. Her "savior" – a man the women called "John" expected strict and immediate obedience by them all – and Jordan was no exception. "Obedience is part of the purification process," he told her.

"And when is this process over?" she asked.

He smiled at her again -- a singularly cold expression. "It never is. Because the soul has a natural bend toward sin and wickedness, one must constantly strive to purify oneself…to be completely cleansed."

"And obeying you guarantees my cleansing?"

"That….and listening to what I tell you. You are a wicked woman, Jordan Cavanaugh. Your sisters saw the evil in you the minute they laid eyes on you at the airport…The way you dressed…the things you carried in your suitcase…you needed to be cleansed…."

Jordan quickly found out her "cleansing" came with a high personal price. If she didn't obey "John" immediately…with whatever it was he asked of her…whether it was getting him a cup of coffee or regular household chores, the price was exacted out of her back…she was beaten.

The first time it happened, she was too stunned to react. But as she was held down by the women and a leather belt was worked over her back, she soon learned that her rebellion would not be tolerated by this bully.

And with the lack of food, rest, and water…coupled with the beatings, she soon found out that keeping her mouth shut for once and doing what she was told meant her survival.

So, dressed in the plain clothes that her "sisters" had given her to replace the ones in her suitcase…and with a closed mouth and weary body, she determined to try to survive the two weeks she would have to get through before anyone had the slightest idea she was missing.


	3. AWOL

**Chapter Three**

**AWOL**

"I need to file a missing person's report," Garret calmly announced to Roz Framus.

"Garret…how are you? God…I haven't seen you like….in forever," Roz said, standing up at her desk. What are you doing here?"

"I need to file a missing person's report," Garret repeated, not quite as calmly this time.

"A missing person's report…let's see…where is my paperwork? And how's Buggles this morning? I haven't seen him in a while, either. " Roz pushed some papers around on her desk until she found the right form. "Okay…and what are you trying to do today? Put the fear of God back in Abby one more time for not calling you this past week?" Garret's squabbles with his daughter were well documented. He had sometimes had to use strong armed tactics with Abby to get her attention and keep her on the straight and narrow.

"Abby's fine, Roz. She's in college now and seems to finally have her head screwed on straight…this report is on Jordan."

"Doc C? Aw, come on, Garret. Jordan's a big girl…just because she's a few days late coming in from vacation…no need to get your boxers in a knot. She probably had a few too many Mai Thais and is laid up on some beach sleeping it off…"

"I don't think so…she should have been back at work two days ago."

"Two days? That's not too bad…not compared to some of the things Jordan's done in the past. She's run before, maybe she's done it again, especially with things the way they are between her and…" Roz tilted her head towards the door where Woody was coming inside their office."

"That's just it, though Roz…I don't think she's run away. In the past, when she's run, she'll always call me after a day or two and let me know where she's at and that she's okay. I haven't heard a word from her the entire two weeks she's been gone…nor yesterday or today. It's been the obligatory forty-eight hours since I should have seen her and now I want to file a missing person report."

"Missing person?" asked Woody, coming over to his desk and catching the tail-end of the conversation. "Who's missing?"

"Garret seems to think that Jordan's gone AWOL," Roz said, handing the chief ME the form for him to complete.

"Jordan? Jordan Cavanaugh? Bug told me she had taken a two week vacation…did she not show back up for work?" Woody asked.

"No. And no word from her either," Garret said, completing the form and handing it back to Roz. "And something else that bothers me. Her tickets to St. Thomas…they were never picked up from the airline's counter at Logan. There was never any record of her boarding the plane."

"Did you report this?" Roz asked, her voice growing louder with alarm.

"Yeah, I did. But your DIC over missing persons said I needed to wait until now to file this report."

Roz looked over the report and began to scan it into the data base. "So you've sat back and waited?"

"Hell no. Nigel's been trying to track down anything and everything…there's been no activity on her credit card…she didn't show up at her hotel she had reservations in at St. Thomas…and no cell phone signals from her number at all…"

"I don't like this, Garret," Roz said, keeping her eyes on the computer screen.

"I don't either. It's not like Jordan to be this way…in the past, even when she's run, she's reported in…"

"Garret," Woody said, breaking in. "She probably got a wild hair up her ass to go somewhere else…do something different. That's the way Jordan is…I wouldn't worry too much." _And God knows I have too much on my plate right now to take off looking for a run away Jordan that probably just wants attention._

"So you're just letting this go…like it means nothing?" Garret asked Woody, finding it difficult to believe that this man who at one time would have gone through heaven and hell to find Jordan was letting her unexplained absence pass so flippantly.

"No….if something pops up on the report, I'll be the first to act on it…I just mean that Jordan is known for her sometimes irrational behavior."

"And you are becoming known for being a self-righteous asshole, detective," Garret said as he slammed the door behind him on the way out.

Roz chuckled silently to herself as she noticed her partner run a hand down his stubble-lined face. "He's right, you know," she said, indicating Garret.

"That Jordan's missing?"

"That…and that you're becoming a self-righteous asshole. What's the matter with you, Woody?"

"Nothing that a couple of beers and a night with Lu won't solve."

Roz harumphed to herself as she finished entering Jordan's data. She prayed the ME was okay and was out having a good time and forgetting a certain detective. God knows she needed to…Woody was pressing hard for the jerk-of-the-year award. "So what case did you catch this morning?" she asked, trying to remain civil to her partner.

"A weird one. A girl was found on the outskirts of Boston, barely inside the city limits….she was murdered."

"That's not so weird. We're homicide detectives…we see that all the time…"

"Yeah, but it was the way she was killed."

"How was that?"

"She was beaten…badly….and ….and…" Woody paused, swallowing his own squeamishness.

"And?" Roz prompted, wanting her partner to get to the pertinent part.

"Her heart was cut out."

* * *

The days bled into each other. In the darkened house, Jordan wasn't sure if it was day or night, so she wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed, but she was pretty certain that her two week vacation hadlong been over. She just prayed that Garret, and to some degree Woody, wouldn't think she had run just to get away from her difficult circumstances. In the past, she had always at least called a few days after she left to let Garret know where she was at so he wouldn't worry. Jordan was hoping that Garret would take the fact that this time she _hadn't_ contactedhim in anyway to heart and realize that something was seriously wrong.

The work in the house was hard…at least harder than she was used to. Jordan was used to being on her feet all day, but she wielded a scalpel, not a paintbrush for hours. And with little food, water, and sleep, some days even the smallest job took a monumental effort on her part. There were days when she was exhausted and dizzy…but kept her mind enough about her to try to figure out where she was at. She knew it was a big farmhouse…and an old one if the need for constant repairs were any indication. There were three levels and a cellar.

The first level was the "family room" where the women would assemble to listen to "John." Jordan had gotten familiar with several of the women who helped take care of her when she was too weak from lack of foodand water to go on – Sarah and Bethany being the primary ones. Jordan liked these women…they were kind to her. Under normal circumstances, they may have even been friends. The others she only saw but wasn't allowed to talk to.

The first level also had the kitchen and the dining room. The other two levels – one which was a converted attic – held bedrooms and bathrooms. The cellar …. Jordan wasn't sure what was in the cellar. No one went down there often and only if John had given permission.

And sometimes the women that went down there didn't come back. When Jordan had softly asked Sarah why this happened, Sarah hedged for a moment. "John has seen fit to move them to another house…" was the only reply Jordan received.

Eventually, Jordan was allowed outside for short stretches of time, but always closely watched. From here, she was able to tell that the house was out in the country somewhere in the rural part of perhaps Boston…perhaps not. She really wasn't sure where she was at. Her luggage was long gone, as well as the personal things she carried in it. As was her purse, her laptop, and her cell phone.

In short, she was cut off from the world…her world…a world she still thought about and desperately wanted to get back to…a world that was hers and she wasn't giving up for John or anyone. She may be weaker physically, but her mind was still just as stubborn as ever.

But she was nearly powerless against this group. She had no way to contact Garret or Woody….she had no way to let anyone know just how badly she wanted to get home.

Or how badlyher bodyached from the beatings. She had gotten beaten again for not painting one of the bedrooms fast enough. The beating was followed for several days with little food and even a smaller amount of water.

Jordan lay in the bed that night and prayed that somehow…some way Woody would find her. He always had in the past…but then again, that was when she was important to him and he _wanted_ to look for her.

She wasn't so sure that was the case now. But surely if she didn't show back up to work…and they checked her apartment and found she had taken nothing….and that her bank accounts hadn't been cleaned out, he would suspect something…

Wouldn't he?


	4. The Purple Pawn

**Chapter Four**

**The Purple Pawn**

Woody had chalked it up to an aberration. An anomaly. A freak incident – the girl they found murdered by having her heart cut out. And he was convinced of that until another girl turned up with her heart cut out…and then another….and then another.

Until there were a total five of them in the morgue within a month's time.

All of Boston was in turmoil…the belief was hot on the streets that the city was under the siege of a serial killer and the newspaper headlines announced each murder with a creaming 72-point type.

But the police department remained relatively quiet on many of the details and their beliefs about the women. Secretly, the homicide detectives didn't think this was the work of a random murderer, or even your garden-variety serial killer. This was the work of someone more sadistic. Someone that was controlling.

Someone, that if he couldn't have the ultimate power over a victim, proceeded not only to take his victims' lives, but also the organ that provided most of the sheer essence of that life – their heart. The seat of life and the symbolic seat of a person's emotions.

That fact did not escape Woody, who was still the lead detective on the case. And after conferring with Bug, Nigel, and Dr. Macy, he also knew that information had not escaped them. The hearts were not cut out with surgical precision, but hacked out with rage -- sometime before the person was completely dead.

"It isn't making a whole lot of sense right now," Woody said to the men one afternoon in the morgue. "Killing, yes…but the whole cutting out the heart thing…" he shuddered inwardly at the torture these women must have gone through.

"It's pretty grotesque," Bug agreed, as they were going over the autopsy done on the last victim, but all the time casting a glance at Dr. Macy and Nigel that plainly said, _you need to tell him…confront him…_

Garret sighed. He had hoped Woody would have put two and two together before now and understood the extent of their concern, but the detective had been too wrapped up in this case to see the forest for the trees. "Woody…what do all these women have in common _besides_ having their hearts hacked out?"

"They were found barely inside the city limits…and all of them had no identification on them. We're having to track them down through Interpol, the FBI, the police data bases …and that is if we are lucky that somewhere they have fingerprints or DNA on file. And right now, we've only identified one of the victims – Jessica Standford."

"Anything else catch your eye?" Nigel asked, watching Woody carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

Woody sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Since things had gone south with his and Jordan's relationship, the morgue staff had been a little more stand-offish in their relationships with them. Oh hell, who was he kidding? They had been barely civil to him. And since she had been missing, it had only gotten worse. For some reason, none of them could understand why he wasn't out there pounding the pavement, looking for Jordan. He had two very good reasons. First, was this case…the murdered women and their missing hearts. It was eating up his time and his patience.

The second reason was that it was no longer his place. Before, he would have been all over that missing person's report. Instead, he had given it a cursory reading and turned it over to Roz Framus. The last thing he needed to do was get himself involved looking for a missing Jordan. Knowing her, she was probably extending her vacation as long as she could and just simply didn't call back in to confirm it with Macy. She had never been one to go by the rule book anyway. Why start now?

At least that's what he kept telling himself. And if he said it enough, he was sure he'd believe it. "No," he finally breathed out in an irritated sigh to Nigel. "Would any of you care to enlighten me?"

"They are all in their late twenties to early thirties," Bug began. "They all have brown hair and brown or hazel eyes…They are all around five foot, nine inches…"

"They all are slender…and Jessica had been reported missing before she was found…As a matter of face, she had been reported as missing for about 15 months…and yet was only recently found murdered…"

"Make you think of anyone?" Bug finally asked, his voice low, but full of anger. The detective's lack of attention to detail could have cost her life.

Woody paled as the details began to sink in….and when they did, her name came out in a whisper…."Jordan…."

_Oh, dear God…she could be… _"Roz….this is Woody," he said into his radio. "Fax to the lab all the notes we have on the crime scenes of the women…everything….and fax Jordan's missing person's report. Stat."

* * *

Two hours and six cups of coffee later, Woody sat back in his chair in the morgue conference room and finally admitted the cold, hard truth to himself. She hadn't run away…she was really missing and could be in imminent danger. She could be tortured...hurt...or worse.

He had to find her…and fast. His head kept telling him it was because she was a citizen of Boston…her welfare was his responsibility to protect.

His heart kept telling him something entirely different – that if something had happened to her…if she was harmed…or something worse that he dared not even attempt to think about, he didn't know how he would continue to go on. Yes, he had been angry with her…furious…and didn't believe her when she told him that she did love him because she did it at a time he was emotionally vulnerable.

Even through JD …Danny…and the women he had dated, he knew all of those relationships had been wrong. He and Jordan irrevocably belonged together…they were just having a hard time finding their way back to each other. If he found her now, he had no qualms at his certainty of keeping her …making her his.

He just had to find her first.

And he was coming up empty of that one. Determinedly, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work going through all the reports one more time, just to see if he had forgotten something…some small detail he overlooked…all the time knowing that Bug and Nigel were doing the same thing with the autopsies. Ruefully, he laughed as the thought flickered through his mind…_If Jordan was here looking for herself, she would have long ago made all these connections and would probably be out by herself looking for this control-freak_. His heart dropped at the thought that if someone didn't come up with some connection….lead, forensic, whatever … he may have to live with the fact that she could be the next victims he was sent out to find.

He knew he would never be able to deal with that…doggedly he pressed on…resifting leads, clues….making notes about who he needed to go and re-interview…so engrossed in his work that he didn't hear Nigel knock on the door. The Brit finally had to call out to him to get his attention.

"Woody…we have a lead…"

Woody's head snapped up, giving Nigel his full attention. "What is it?" _God, don't let it be another body…._

"I just got a call from a joint called the Purple Pawn. It's on the other side of Boston, nearly in Cambridge….someone just pawned Jordan's laptop."


	5. Run Away

**Chapter Five**

The days of minimal food and water were beginning to catch up with Jordan. She was often dizzy, incredibly thirsty, and what she ate often didn't stay down very well. She continued to grow weaker, but her spirit to fight against her captors remained strong. And while she continued to hope and pray that Woody had not forgotten about her…that he did care enough at least to be looking for her, Jordan was constantly looking for ways to escape John and his "family."

The wait and watch wasn't easy. As long as Jordan was inside the house, she was never quite certain if it was day or night and she had no real idea of exactly how long she had been gone. Outside, however, was a different story.

She wasn't allowed to go outdoors often, and when she was, it was always under the watchful eye of Sarah. And when this happened, Jordan tried to be keenly aware of her surroundings…sounds…smells…anything that would tell her exactly where she was at. She didn't hear planes landing and taking off, so it was evidently some miles away from Logan Airport, although she did occasionally see a plane in the sky. She couldn't make out hardly any traffic noises at all … so evidently they were some distance from a main road, too. She heard birds…and saw trees. The house's backyard was edged by a wooded area, and if she wasn't mistaken, what little traffic noises she heard came from behind those trees.

So Jordan waited until she had a chance to run from the house and "John" and the "sisters" to the sounds of the road behind the woods. She was determined to at least try, even though in her weakened condition she wasn't sure just how far she would make it. And she had a longer wait than she wanted….several weeks, as a matter of fact….until finally it simply…happened. She was out with Sarah in the back, doing some yard work that John had mandated when one of the other "sisters" called for Sarah from inside the house. Sarah turned to Jordan with a sigh and said, "Stay right here. Don't move. I'll be right back." Then the woman turned and went back in the house.

That was all it took for Jordan. Slowly and stealthily, she edged towards the back of the property…until she reached the tree line. Then just as quietly as she could, she slipped into the wooded area.

* * *

"What does it tell you?" Woody asked Nigel, impatience lacing his voice and actions. After Nigel had gotten the phone call from the owner of the Purple Pawn, Woody had immediately left to pick it up. It had been dusted for prints and several had been lifted. Nigel was now in the process of turning the laptop on, opening Jordan's files, including her e-mail, to see if the device could tell them anything.

"Well, the laptop itself tells us nothing. It hasn't been opened or used since the first day of Jordan's vacation. From what I can tell, she accessed her personal e-mail account, deleted some junk mails, answered one from her friend Kim, and had a confirmation on her e-tickets waiting at Logan. Other than that, there was no activity in any of the programs and the computer hasn't been used since. However, all of her personal files have been deleted…probably in order to pawn the laptop," Nigel said, rubbing a hand down his tired face. He had been working with Jordan's lap top for hours, hoping to find a clue…any clue as to where she might be. "And," he said as an added afterthought, "as best I can tell, she went on-line at her Pearl Street apartment…so that tells us nothing."

Woody made a frustrated noise. "Damn it," he swore. Then turned apologetically to Nigel. "I know you're doing all you can…and the office is running the prints now. So far our data base has nothing….it's just that this is not moving fast enough for me. Jordan would have never allowed her laptop to just be taken without reporting it stolen. The only reason the guy at the pawn shop called us is because _we_ put out an alert on it…"

Nigel nodded and wearily stared at his computer screen again. Despite whatever feelings Woody may now have for Jordan, he was obviously hell bent on getting her back home again safe and sound. They all were. It was a pity that the one time Jordan was taking some time for herself…some time to heal emotionally and rest physically, this had to happen to her.

"Is there anything at all, Nige?" Woody's voice sounded pleading, nearly desperate.

"I wish there was, mate…but…"

They were interrupted by Woody's cell phone. Nigel watched as the detective flipped it open. "Hoyt…Really? You're sure? Holy shit….yeah, thanks….put out an APB and let's move. Do you hear me? Move…" The phone flipped shut with a snap. Nigel raised an eyebrow at him.

"The lab was able to run one of the prints through the FBI data bases. It belongs to a Paul Thomas Mickleson, aka as Father John Curtis…."

"The same father John that was arrested out in Michigan for leading that cult of women?" Nigel asked, fear and incredulousness filling his voice.

"The same one," Woody said, setting his mouth grimly. "Seems the good father got out of prison early for good behavior…and is back to his old habits. Only this time, it appears he has upped the ante…"

Nigel nodded. He remembered the news stories from nearly twelve years earlier. "Father John" had been charged with leading a group of women, some minors, in some off-beat religious cult that revolved around him. If the women didn't obey him…if they put up any resistance, they were beaten, starved…and worse. "So, he's up to his old tricks?" Nigel quietly asked, but Woody noted the thin layer of perspiration forming on the tall man's forehead.

"Yeah. Only this time, he's worse…he's murdering the women that try to run rather than 'just' beating them. And knowing Jordan…."

"If this man's got her, she'll try to run….it's only a matter of time."

Woody nodded, "We've got an APB out on the guy…but we need to find her….fast."

* * *

"I hope this teaches you a lesson." Jordan heard John snarl from behind her. She swallowed down the pain and refused to answer. As soon as Sarah's back was turned, she had silently slipped into the woods, but she didn't get far. Sarah had returned, found her gone, and raised the alarm. Jordan was dragged back to the porch, tied, and beaten…repeatedly…until she knew she what she felt was blood running down her back.

"Answer him, Jordan," Sarah whispered to her.

She couldn't….the pain was too much…and she knew she was nearly ready to black out. Sarah saw this, too, and made a move towards her.

"Leave her alone," John snarled again. "Don't touch her…or feed her…or give her water…"

"But John," Sarah protested. "She's a mess…and weak. If I don't do something…"

"She needs the evil driven out her. Just like you did."

Sarah barely concealed a shudder at the measures John went through to drive the "evil" out of her. Her back still had the scars…her soul had never recovered. "But…." she continued to protest. Jordan couldn't be left like this…if she was…

"Leave her," John commanded.

"Here? Outside?" In the past, she had at least been able to bring Jordan back into the house after she had been beaten.

"Yes. Here. All night. Maybe she will have learned her lesson by in the morning…" John turned and walked back inside.

Sarah watched until he was back inside the kitchen with the other women. Tearfully she looked at Jordan, barely conscious now. "Hang in there," Sarah whispered. "I'll be out first thing in the morning to get you. I promise…."

"Sarah! Now!" John's voice boomed from the inside. With one more glance at Jordan, the woman stepped inside, shutting and bolting the door behind her.


	6. Treat it Personal

**Chapter Six**

**Treatit Personal**

"Can I talk to you a minute?" Woody asked Lu, after knocking softly at her office door.

"Sure, come on in," Lu answered with a smile. It had taken Woody a while to warm up to her as both a detective and a "shrink," but once he did, he had used her expertise in several of his cases. "Tough case bothering you?"

Woody came in and sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Leaning forward with his elbows resting on both knees, he clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Yeah….sort of," he said tentatively… "and no."

Lu gave him a puzzled look and waited for him to explain. If she had learned one thing when dealing with Woody Hoyt, it was to let him go at his own pace. Pushing him only resulted in an exercise in pure frustration for him and a migraine for her.

"It is a case…a particularly terrifying one. Do you remember the case in Michigan years ago involving Father John Curtis?"

Lu nodded. It was a case involving a cult leader, his blindly obedient female followers, and torture. She had been a freshman in college then and the school she attended had upped the security of the female students…a knee-jerk reaction to the possibility that some "nut case" could come onto their campus and whisk away co-eds to follow him…even though she was in school in Pennsylvania. The dean had figured if it could happen in Michigan it could happen anywhere.

"We have reason to think….no, we know….he's now in Boston doing what he did in Michigan years ago."

Lu took a deep breath. "You're sure?"

"The lab pulled a latent print off a laptop that we feel one belongs to one of his victims." Woody went on to give Lu a sanitized version of the details involving the alert and the man calling from the Purple Pawn. Lu listened quietly and made a few mental notes.

"So….are you using me to try to get inside the mind of this alleged murderer?"

Woody shook his head. "I don't need to get inside his mind…at least not yet. I just need to find him. And the case is moving pretty fast right now…my problem….my issue ...is who the laptop belongs to and the fact that she could be the next victim…."

"Who does it belong to?" Lu asked, looking Woody directly in the eyes.

"Jordan."

* * *

The hot, humid air stuck around Jordan like a second layer of skin. While Boston was known for cold winters, the summer could be just as harsh with high temperatures and humidity at times. And now was one of the times.

And when she was able to open her eyes, she could see the clouds rolling in, eating up the night sky and the stars…._It's going to storm…_ she thought, and no sooner had the words crossed her mind than the sky sizzled with lightning and the thunder began to boom. Then the wind began to pick up as the rain began to pour from the dark clouds…the water blowing on her already pain-filled and weakened body. She was dimly aware of hearing footsteps coming to the window near where she was at. Glancing over, she saw the worried face of Sarah for a split second before John roughly pulled her away.

Closing her eyes once again, Jordan tried to imagine herself anywhere but where she was at right now….the warm beaches of St. Thomas….working with Garret and Nigel….being held by Woody while they danced at the Pogue. God…that seemed like a lifetime ago and in so many ways it was. He was a different man then….and she was only beginning to acknowledge in her reluctant heart the extent of her love for him. She swallowed hard and let the tears finally come that had been building up inside. _Please, dear God, let him find me…_she silently prayed to a God she still hoped listened to those in trouble. _Please…Woody. Just one more time…I need you…please…_

A pop of lightning occurred so near the house now she flinched. The thunder boomed overhead again, the reverberations making the porch shake. The wind picked up once more and blew the cold rain on her already soaked body. _Please God…and Woody…_

* * *

"The laptop belonged to Jordan?" Lu asked evenly. Inwardly all the yellow caution lights were flashing in her mind. This woman was a particularly sore spot for the detective…who seemed to have a love/hate relationship with the ME. He claimed to have loved her at one time, but had felt Jordan pushed him away on one too many occasions. So Woody had finally given up on any type of relationship with Jordan at all.

Eventually, Woody had turned his attention to other women, but had been no more successful in those relationships than he had with Jordan. It was only though long hours of intensive work with Lu that Woody had learned that he had been just as much as fault as Jordan was with the relationship…he still had areas in his life he needed to deal with besides the sniper incident that had nearly cost him his legs and his career. The anger that had seemingly budded from that one event had actually been a seething volcano barely hidden beneath the surface. The bullet that he took just allowed all the rage to come rolling out. It took some time, but Woody had finally admitted to himself that if Jordan had taken his friendship ring all those months ago when he offered it, the relationship would still have probably been doomed. His fury would have killed it at some point.

But now he was dealing with the resentment he had felt for his mother's death in his life at such a young age…his father's treatment of his sons after that death…his own father's untimely murder….and the burden of raising a brother who was constantly ungrateful and uncooperative. Not to mention being shuttled from one relative to another to live, feeling constantly unwanted and unloved most of his life. It was no wonder that when Jordan had finally whispered to Woody that she loved him, he just didn't believe her. No one else really ever had, why should she? While he had wanted so much to hear Jordan say those words, his past wouldn't allow him to accept them or believe her. So he unceremoniously and very hurtfully, turned the ME away.

However, Lu felt that Woody had never really stopped loving Jordan. Despite the fact that he assured her that whatever he and Jordan had was now too dead to revive, Lu knew that deep down, the detective still longed for Jordan. And in many ways was incomplete without her.

Which made what she now had to say to Woody difficult…and needed to be put delicately under the best of circumstances. "And does that make a difference in you trying to find her? Are you trying this hard to find her because it's Jordan or would you be working this hard if it was any other citizen of Boston?"

Woody nodded. "I've asked myself that question a thousand times since I realized that this creep could have her. And the answer is I'd be working this hard if it was anyone…"

"Then that's good…"

"But…it makes this case personal. It's Jordan…and…and…"

"And?" Lu raised an eyebrow.

Woody stood suddenly and walked over to the window in Lu's office, staring unseeingly out the wind. "And it's Jordan…" he said quietly. "I'd go to any lengths to get anyone away from this guy….but Jordan…all the feelings this is pulling up, Lu. I shouldn't care for her…I shouldn't hate her either, but I shouldn't have such an intense reaction to this case like I'm having…"

"She's a colleague. You've worked with her since you came to Boston. Even though you may no longer care for her the way you once did, there are still emotional ties there, Woody. It's okay." Lu watched him carefully. Woody normally held nearly a stoic expression…intense sometimes, sometimes nearly dour, and sometimes sad, but could be incredibly difficult to read most of the time.

But not now. His emotions were playing all over his face like a pinball machine. "What feelings are being pulled up?" she finally asked after a few moments had passed.

"That I have to find her…before she gets hurt. Because if she gets hurt…or worse, I don't know how I will live with myself. And what's worse, I don't know if I'd really have any kind of life without her. I've tried…since I've was shot…to live without her. But I was only fooling myself. It's not really a life…not when my soul…my heart…feels so empty without her."

Lu sat back and hid a smile. The final breakthrough with Woody…she had been trying to get him to admit that he still had a missing piece in him for months. She would have bet her pension that missing piece was Jordan… and now she knew for sure. Clearing her throat to hide her triumph, she asked, "Can I offer a suggestion?"

Woody turned his attention away from the window and back to Lu. "Sure. What?"

"Treat finding Jordan the way you would treat the case if it were anyone else – with the same amount of dedication and relentlessness I've known you to have. And afterwards…when she's safely back home….treat it personal."


	7. Hang On, I'm Coming

**Chapter Seven**

**Hold On, I'm Coming**

The dawn finally broke. Jordan's back felt as if it were on fire from the beating. And if her back felt badly, her emotions were even rawer than the skin on her back. The thunderstorms had come in waves during the previous night…never letting up for long…the lightning still causing the air around her to sizzle…and the thunder boom so loudly that it echoed in her mind hours after the storms had ended and the sky began to clear.

So Jordan was only barely aware of someone untying her and nearly carrying her inside the house, pulling her up the stairs to the dark confines of her bedroom. She moaned in pain as she was put down on her bed.

"Shhh….be quiet. You don't want to make John angry again, do you?" Sarah asked, frustration over the situation and concern for Jordan lacing her voice in dual tones.

Jordan shook her head and buried it in her pillow. She felt Sarah remove her shirt and bathe her back, then pull the bed covers up closely around her. "Good…then just lay here …and don't make a sound. I'll go tell him I brought you in and ask if I can give you something to eat and drink. Just…don't ever do that again, okay? Don't run. Next time…." Sarah bit her lip. She hoped there wouldn't be a next time. And there wouldn't be if she could help it. She sat by Jordan until she saw that the ME had fallen into a fitful sleep. Then rising quietly, she opened the bedroom door and let herself out.

And ran straight into John. "What do you think you are doing?" the man coldly asked.

* * *

Nothing.

For a case that had suddenly gained momentum, it had stopped just as quickly. Woody pushed down his frustration. They had a latent print. They knew who it belonged to.

They just couldn't find him anywhere.

He crossed his arms and paced his office one more time, mentally going back over everything…and came up with nothing new. He felt like screaming, or throwing something…punching the wall…anything to relieve the anger he felt. He walked back over to this desk and stared at a picture of Jordan he had sitting on top of it. The picture had been in his apartment. For years it had sat beside his bed on his night stand. First thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night. For years, he had dreamed of waking up beside her instead of the picture.

But time and circumstances had vanished that dream ... dissolving it like the sun does the early morning dew. Until lately, anyway. He had taken Lu's words to heart Keep it business…then make it personal.

Slowly, he had felt his dream began to take another breath…gain form once again. But it wore different clothes this time…it was no longer the dream of a relationship between two people who were still somewhere on the cusp of emotional adulthood. Now it was the dream of something between a man and a woman who were both ready to let go of the past and get on with living.

At least Woody hoped so. At least he hoped he still had the chance to share that dream with Jordan. But as the hours clocked themselves into days, the chances of her getting out of this situation alive were growing fewer and far between. _Hang in there,_ he thought, picking the picture up to look into her eyes. _I'm coming…just as soon as I know where you're at. Jordan, where are you?_

His cell phone soon answered that question. "Hoyt," he said into the receiver. "Another one? And you're sure it's not…thanks."

Another victim. But it wasn't Jordan.

* * *

"What do you have, Nigel?" Woody asked, stepping over the yellow crime scene tape at a location barely inside the Boston city limits.

"It's the work of that whack-o again, Woody." Nigel drew down the sheet that covered the victim. "Female. Late twenties to early thirties. Shoulder length brown hair. Brown eyes. Beaten. Strangled. Heart hacked out."

Woody swallowed the nausea that rose in his throat. He was thankful it wasn't Jordan, but no one deserved to die like that….and what did this mean for Jordan's future. When would the pervert decide it was her time to die? "When will you know more?" he asked.

"After I get her back to the morgue and Bug does the autopsy. We'll be running trace and all the screens….and then some." Nigel nodded to the workers to put the body in a bag and transport it back to the morgue.

"Let me know if you get anything…anything you didn't find on any of the other five victims."

"You'll be the first…"

"Detective Hoyt!" a uniformed officer shouted. "We have something…."

Woody and Nigel scrambled over the rough terrain to get to what the officer was talking about. "It's a witness…" the officer began.

"Good…Can I ask you a few questions?" Woody said, anxiously looking at the middle aged woman by the officer's side

"It's better than that," the officer replied. "This lady took down the license plate number of the car speeding away from the scene."

Woody gave the woman an incredulous look. Of all the lucky runs….

The woman caught Woody's amazed expression. "We have kids around here that like to play outside…and often they cross these old country roads without looking. No one should speed through here…there are signs posted and everything about the speed limit and kids playing. So…I was afraid he'd hit one of the kids. I took down his license plate number and called the police…."

* * *

Jordan moaned as she felt herself being lifted from her bed. "Wake up, Cavanaugh," John's voice filtered roughly through her fever-induced dreams…"At least wake up enough to walk…." She felt herself dropped to her feet. "Come on…"

Half pulling, half carrying her, John pushed and prodded her down the stairs, through the family room and hallway….down another flight of steps. Jordan struggled with him then…she had seen women go down these steps…steps that led to the cellar. The women had gone down, but not come up again. Sarah had told her it was because John had taken them to a new "home," but Jordan had a feeling the "home" Sarah had been referring to wasn't one with four walls and a roof.

"Damn you, stop it," John hissed in her ear. "Just get down the steps…."

"No…" Jordan protested weakly…only to feel herself being propelled down them against her will. At the bottom, John caught her by the waist and dragged her across the dirt floor to a small closet. "No….." she said repeated. "I won't run away again…I promise…please…"

"It's not about that…they're not going to catch me again. They're not sending me away…" Jordan was only dimly aware of what John murmured when he shoved her in the closet. But the click of the lock on the outside of the door nearly deafened her.


	8. Money and Morals be Damned

**Chapter Eight**

**Money and Morals be Damned**

"Do it just like we planned…no surprises, no heroics…" Woody said as they began to surround the house where they suspected Father John and his family was staying. It really hadn't taken too long to find out where Jordan could be after the police had received the license tag from the woman at the crime scene. The tag had been reported stolen, but once the description of the car and the man possibly behind the wheel was put out, it didn't take long for the tip line to begin ringing.

That, and the fact that Garret had put up $10,000 for the safe return of Jordan. _Money is always a great motivator,_ Woody thought grimly to himself. _Of morals and everything else…_But if got Jordan back safe and sound, money and morals be damned. And he'd be damned if anything like this ever happened to her again. The next time she went out of town by herself, he'd have GPS implanted in her sweet ass if it would help him keep up with her.

He looked in his rear view mirror at himself, noting it looked as if he had aged ten more years since this whole wave of events started. It was bad enough before he knew Jordan was involved. It had gotten steadily worse since he was sure she was in that house somewhere. They'd both need a vacation when this was over…preferably together, at the same place.

If he could get her to forgive him for being an ass…which may take more than his fair share of groveling.

Not that he would mind. Much.

"We've got the house surrounded," another detective radioed back to Woody, breaking into his thoughts.

"Good…let's go in quietly….take him by surprise….and remember, this could easily turn into a hostage situation. Watch each other's back, but be careful with the women. From what I can tell, most of them are probably just innocent pawns in this guy's hands…and if you find Dr. Cavanaugh before I do…"

"Let you know…."

"Roger."

Woody drummed his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the other vehicles to take their positions. The house was dark…and eerily quiet….too quiet. "I don't have a good feeling about this," he muttered to himself just before the uniformed unit went to the door of the house. They knocked and shouted, but no answer. "Move it," Woody finally barked into the radio. Without any hesitation, the men rammed the door open…and flashed their badges and flipped the lights on…and recoiled in horror.

Catching the motions, Woody quickly followed them inside and just as quickly had to turn away, go to the end of the porch, and heave into the bushes.

They were dead. All the women were dead. It looked like gunshot wounds to the head. "Nigel? Garret?" he managed to whisper into the radio.

"Woody? What's wrong?" Garret asked. "Have you found her?"

"No…no…but we need you guys fast. All of you. The women…it looks like they're all dead."

"Jordan?" Garret asked, his voice hard and disbelieving.

"I don't know. I can't bring myself to look."

"Pull yourself together…and get back in there. She may not be in the house…or she may be in there somewhere, someway still alive. We're on our way…"

Woody flipped his phone shut and took a deep breath. Garret was right. She could be in there….and still be alive. Gamely he re-entered what looked like the den area. "How many?" he asked the first uniformed officer he saw.

"Eight in here…three in the kitchen….four upstairs."

Woody felt his stomach heave again. "Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Not among them."

Relief flooded him…for half a second. That could mean that she was out there as John's  
last victim…or John had taken her as a hostage. "Has the entire house been searched?"

"We're still working on the upstairs."

Woody nodded and began to survey the damage in the kitchen. One woman was at the kitchen counter…the other two near the door. Evidently they saw what was happening and tried to get away…but John had been too fast….Avoiding the police photographers, he headed down the small hallway and noticed a bolted door. Sliding the bolt back, he flipped on the light…and made his way down a short flight of stairs.

* * *

The fever racking Jordan's body caused her to be burning up with fever and then shivering with chills the next. Her back felt like it was raw and on fire…and in the dark confines of the closet, she couldn't hear or see anything. She was faintly aware of muted sounds upstairs, including sharp thuds. Assuming it was someone else being beaten, she curled up as small as she could in a corner, praying to get away from the noise, the cries of the woman….and then, just as suddenly it was quiet. As still as a church.

But for how long she couldn't tell. At some point in time, she was hazily aware of lots of footsteps…loud voices calling out…all male. _That's strange_, she thought. John was the only man in this group. She shifted to put her ear to the door, to see if she could make out the obscure sounds more clearly, but the pain in her back shot through her again, and she simply collapsed against the door. It was warm in the closet now…and she was vaguely aware that it was getting harder to breathe….

Then suddenly there was a rush of air as the door swung open…

"Jordan…"

She could have sworn she heard Woody.

"Jordan…Jordan!" His voice was sharper ….it always was with her now that he no longer loved her. She swallowed the bitter tears in her throat. Even in her dreams, he was angry with her.

"Jordan…honey…talk to me…." She felt gentle arms go around her. "Jordan….please…."

"Woody?" She managed to open her eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of his blue ones. "You found me…" she whispered weakly.

"I always do…" He tenderly lifted her in his arms to carry her out of the closet. She moaned at the movement, her body rebelling against the contact on her back. Deciding that carrying her up the stairs may not be the best idea at the moment he gently sat her on the steps, leaning against him. "What hurts, Jordan?" he asked.

When he pulled his arm away from her back, he knew what hurt. The sleeve of his coat was covered with blood. Shifting her away from him for a second, he looked at her back in horror…then pulled her back to him, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her at the same time. "Hey…" he said into his radio. "This is Hoyt. I've found Dr. Cavanaugh alive downstairs, but we're going to need an ambulance…and someone tell Garret..."

"Roger Detective Hoyt…"

"Jordan, what did he do to you?" Woody softly asked her….but she was already nearly unconscious again…the pain, hunger, and thirst catching up with her finally in a place where she felt was safe and could give into it. He pulled her closer and looked her over while waiting on the paramedics to arrive. She was bone-thin….it would take months for her to fill back out and reclaim her feminine curves….and her back…God, what a mess. Woody firmly set his jaw. When Father John was caught, Woody sincerely hoped he would be around to do the same thing to the cult leader.

"Detective Hoyt!" a voice called from upstairs.

"Down here…."

"The paramedics are on their way ….they're coming in the back entrance…"

Woody heard them before he saw them, pushing down the outside door to the cellar. Jordan stirred faintly in his arms and clung to him, protesting when the medics began to move her to the gurney. "Woody?" she whispered and held out her hand.

"R.r…r…right here," he managed to get out, his childhood stammer returning because of the stress. She had lost so much blood and was just so damned thin…he took her hand and squeezed it to let her know he was still there.

"Stay with me…please? Don't leave me…Please, don't leave me?"

Woody felt a dagger go through his heart. She had asked him not to leave her before and he had made a mess of the situation by making her leave…trampling her feelings and her love under his feet.

Taking his moment of hesitation as a no, she pleaded again, "Just until they get me in the ambulance…would you stay? Then I promise, you can go…I won't stop you…"

"Jordan, I'm right here….and I'm not going anywhere." He tightened his hold on her hand again as he began to walk with the gurney and paramedics out to the ambulance.

"The women...Woody…how are the other women?"

Woody didn't answer her question. There would be time later to try to explain it…but not right now. Jordan didn't need the answer to that question. Thankfully, he didn't have to try to even hedge on the answer as they had reached the back of the ambulance. "They didn't do anything, Woody," she continued. "It was all him…if they didn't do exactly what he said…"

"I know," he softly kissed her fingers before they loaded her in the back of the vehicle. Then Woody tried to get in after her.

"Sorry…" one of the paramedics said. "It's against the rules for even Boston PD to ride in the back of these things…and besides, you're not listed as her next of kin… Garret Macy is…and only he can ride up front."


	9. Waking Up

**Chapter Nine**

For two days Woody haunted the hospital…staying just outside Jordan's room or sitting in the waiting area. She was hovering somewhere between realm of consciousness and unconsciousness…and he wasn't sure what her reaction would be to him if she woke up and found him by her bed. Woody knew he had made a colossal mistake in telling her to get out of his life, but Jordan wasn't aware of his change of heart.

That was something he wanted to make known to her as soon as she woke up and regained her health – the primary issue of concern to everyone. While Woody hadn't seen Jordan personally, the pictures that came back across his desk as evidence made him sick to his stomach. Her back was a mess. How she had been able to hold her own against the pain and isolation, Woody didn't think he'd ever know.

But the fact was, she did. Which proved to him that she was made of stronger stuff than anyone realized. Or at least he hoped. And he hoped that somewhere in that tensile strength that defined Jordan Cavanaugh, she still find a soft spot in her heart to forgive him.

Woody sighed as he leaned against the wall beside her hospital door. Lily was with her now…Jordan was still coming in and out of consciousness. The grief counselor had promised to give him an update on Jordan just as soon as the doctors had finished. So when the door to Jordan's room opened, he jumped. The doctors filed out, followed by Lily. "How…how is she?" Woody asked, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously up and down and his eyes darting towards the closed door of her room.

"About the same," Lily said, feeling all at once both sorry for Woody and still incredibly angry at him for treating Jordan the way he had.

"No change?"

"Very little. The doctors are sure she's going to be okay….at least physically ….it's the emotional part they're worried about right now. Did this guy play lots of mind games with her? How traumatized is she going to be from this?"

Woody nodded and ran his hand through his hair. "Is she talking any?"

"A little here and there. Nothing real coherent…although she keeps asking for Max …and you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you."

"What does she say?"

Lily bit her lip in an effort to keep the tears out of her eyes. "She…she…keeps saying she's frightened…and….and…she wants you or her father to please come and get her." Lily looked down at the gray tiles of the hospital halls, trying to regain her composure. "She just sounds…so defeated. Not like Jordan at all…."

Woody nodded. Lily was right. That didn't sound like Jordan. "Any chance I can see her? At least for a second or two?"

Lily hesitated for a minute. She wasn't sure what Jordan's reaction would be to Woody…if it would be positive, or if it could possibly send the ME careening off the deep end before they could get her head above water where she was at now. But, since Jordan was mainly unconscious now, Lily really didn't see any harm… "Just for a minute…go on in. I've got to see the nurse about changing the bandages on her back, anyway…" She pushed the door to Jordan's room open slightly, but noticed Woody was still hanging back just a bit. "Go on….she's not going to bite you….And I'll be back in a few minutes."

Nodding again, Woody entered, nearly tiptoeing in, so as not to disturb the quiet of Jordan's dimly lit hospital room…There were several IV hook ups. Woody knew Jordan was dehydrated…and that she was being given liquids. He also knew that one of the IVs held lipids, something that would help put weight back on her. He was aware of all of that. What he didn't plan on was that Jordan would be lying on her side, facing away from him, with the back of her gown open….

And he wasn't aware of just how much her brutalized back was going to throw him off kilter. The pictures didn't do it a half-justice. The bruises were long…some were orange-tinged….fading out…those were the older bruises. Others where fresher….the blue and black splotches holding a reddish center…

Then there were those places that bled. Woody didn't even want to think about how badly those injuries hurt her. All the fury he had kept at bay with this case found itself rising in him again. Who could do this to another human being?

What kind of person would do this to her?

Tentatively, almost without thinking about his reaction, he reached out and smoothed her hair away from her forehead, hoping to somehow convey to her that she was now safe…that he wouldn't allow anyone to hurt again…that all she had to do was concentrate on getting better. He nearly smiled at her reaction…a frown wrested its way across her forehead as he disturbed her sleep…evidently sleep she badly needed. She was resting hard…according to the doctors, she had been too frightened to sleep much during her time with the family….and now was making up for lost time.

"Jordan," he whispered, before he could stop himself, "We're going to catch this guy…the guy that did this to you…I promise…"

She stirred then, his light touch and soft voice bringing her back to reality. "Woody?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Just checking up on you…" He was still stroking her hair.

Jordan did frown then. Woody no longer "just" checked up on her. Woody no longer cared. "Why?"

His tongue tied itself in knots on that one. He had so much to tell her, but now wasn't the time and she needed to get better first. So he did what any other American male would do in that situation…he hedged for time. "Because…because…you've been hurt…and despite everything that has happened between us, I do care, Jordan."

She narrowed her eyes at him then. She'd give him that much…that he cared. There was still enough of the boy scout under that tough exterior that would be concerned about her…or anyone else…that had been kidnapped by some nut case, held for weeks against their will, and then abused on top of everything else. "I don't remember a whole lot.." she said, referring to the case.

"We can talk about that later, Jo. Right now you just need to rest and get better…"

Then a thought hit Jordan...no one had mentioned it before, but she hadn't really be conscious like she was now. "The other women….Woody….where are the other women? Are they okay? You can't press charges against them, Woody. John…this guy…Everyone was so afraid of him…well….everyone but me…but then even at the end…" her voice faltered and her eyes dropped. Before John had put her in the closet, she had become very nearly willing to do whatever it took to survive another day.

Woody took a deep breath and prepared to hedge again. She definitely didn't need to hear about the other women…not now. "There won't be any charges press against them," he said, hoping she wouldn't notice the tight note in his voice.

Another thought filtered through Jordan's mind. "One of the women….John took her downstairs into the cellar a day or so before I…." her mind was growing fuzzy again as her medication was kicking in…. "Her name was Sarah…she had shoulder length brown hair and green eyes….have you seen her?"

Woody swallowed hard and waited for the pain medication to waft Jordan back into unconsciousness. As a matter of fact, he had seen Sarah – at the morgue. She was John's last victim…Bug and Nigel were performing her autopsy.


	10. Back to Normal?

**Chapter 10**

**Back to Normal?**

She stayed in the hospital for a week, long enough for the doctors to be sure that she was no longer dehydrated and for a couple of additional pounds to show up on the scale to prove she was gaining her weight back.

Then she was sent home with detailed instructions on how to take care of her back injury and a handful of prescriptions, which Lily promptly took to be filled. There were also a myriad of follow-up doctors appointments that she needed to show up at and a diet that the nutritionist wanted her to follow.

Jordan sighed as she looked in the bag of pills that Lily had shoved in her hand before the grief counselor had to go back to work. Antibiotics. Pain killers. Muscle relaxers. A veritable smorgasbord of drugs. Too bad she wasn't a dealer….she could double her money.

She grinned ruefully at her own personal joke. As a person, Jordan didn't like taking all the medication. But as a doctor, she knew all of the prescriptions were necessary for her body to heal.

Too bad she couldn't say the same thing for her heart and her mind. Jordan had a feeling it was going to take even longer for those two to heal. She had talked to Dr. Stiles…at length…about her terror of John….her experiences…and how they lingered in her mind and her dreams….how they were affecting her. Jordan had a feeling it was going to be an ongoing conversation for a while. And there was no medication to help it along…just dealing with her fears on a day-to-day basis was the best she could do.

Right now, it was all she could hope for….that and get back to work as soon as she was able to. Work was her catharsis, her stress-relief….the wall she could build to hide behind whenever she was afraid…it was a safe place from her fears….of John and Woody.

She knew John had run…escaped … that he had not been captured that night when Woody came to rescue her. That fact had been explained when she discovered a uniformed police officer posted outside her hospital room door. The same guy was now posted outside her apartment door. Under normal circumstances, that kind of attention would have driven her insane.

But now it gave her an oddly unfamiliar feeling of comfort. For as much as she disliked being watched over, the fact that John was still out there, and could come back for her at any time, was a fear that tickled the forefront of her mind more than Jordan let on.

And while she wasn't exactly afraid of Woody Hoyt, his words and attitude towards her before she had tried to leave Boston for St. Thomas stayed with her to the point she was still avoiding him as much as she could…which was difficult with him being the lead detective over this case. But she didn't want her heart broken again on top of everything she was going through now and would be facing in the future.

The future. Something she would now have to deal with while the ghosts of her past kept resurrecting themselves.

* * *

For three weeks, she meandered around her apartment, getting caught up on her rest, letting her body heal, venturing out on occasionally to see Dr. Stiles and to shop for things that she needed. There was always that niggling fear in the back of her mind that John was somewhere out there waiting for her, although the police and her forensic insight told her that he was probably hundreds of miles away from Boston. He was more than likely at a remote place, waiting to reinvent himself, and emerge once again.

The next time, hopefully, he would be caught before he hurt, killed, or emotionally maimed another woman.

His women…the "sisters." Jordan thought about them often. Despite her circumstances, she had grown close to several of her fellow captives. Fond of quite a few of them – especially Sarah.

It had been Woody that finally told her that Sarah was John's last victim. Jordan had repeatedly asked about Sarah while hospitalized. Finally after a week of dodging the question, Woody had tenderly taken Jordan's hand and told her as gently as he could about the women – all of them. How John had shot them all in the head, some at point blank range…and then told her about Sarah.

Jordan felt her world drop out beneath her feet. Emotions swirled around her. Grief, certainly. That was insurmountable. The gun shot victims coupled with the women that John had hacked their hearts out brought the death toll to twenty-one.

Sarah had been the last victim. Once Woody's news had sunk in, Jordan had sobbed nearly uncontrollably, a reaction that Dr. Stiles had said was predictable, understandable, and necessary in order to release some of the anguish.

And Jordan knew that. She had worked around the dead, their friends, and families too long not to recognize this side of heartache.

What she didn't expect to feel was the tidal wave of guilt that washed over her, sucking her down into a quagmire of "why me"? Why didn't John kill me, too? Did he have something else he wanted to do to me? Was I supposed to die in that closet? Was he coming back for me?

Why was I the only one to survive?

And most disturbingly, _is he coming back to finish what he started with me?_

While everyone was assuring Jordan that this would probably not happen…and her own experience backing that assumption up, she still had to deal with that fear along with many others that living with the cult had given her. She sighed as she pulled on her jacket and got ready for yet another talk with Howard. Hopefully this time he would release her to at least go back to work. Sitting in the apartment so much was getting close to driving her insane. Work would be a welcomed diversion, even if she still was somewhat physically limited. Even a few hours a day would be a welcome distraction.

And God knows, her fear-filled mind needed that.

* * *

"I need to go back to work, Howard," were the first words out of Jordan's mouth as soon as Dr. Stiles closed the door to his office.

"Good morning to you, too, Jordan. How's my favorite patient?" Dr. Stiles replied, side-stepping her first statement.

"I'm fine….but if I can't go back to work soon, I really will go crazy….or at least crazier than I already am now."

Howard chuckled at her candor. If nothing else, Jordan could be honestly blunt, even when she was being evasive. "Getting a little cabin fever?" he questioned.

"Getting a lot of cabin fever," she replied, moving restlessly around his office. "I need …normalcy again, Howard." She stopped at a window, staring unseeingly outside. "I need things to get back to the way they were…."

"The way they were when, Jordan?"

"Before all this happened…before John…before…before…"

Howard regarded her for a long moment. Then quietly answered, "You know in some aspects, that will never happen…"

"I know…but if feel that if I were at least productive…doing what I'm used to doing instead of moping around my apartment…"

"But you're still frightened to go out by yourself anymore…"

Jordan nodded. "I know. But having to go to work would force me to face that and deal with it."

"Don't you think it might be a little early for that? Are you sure you're ready?"

"I won't know until I try. And I'll be safe between the morgue and the police department. Nothing will happen to me."

"You really want to try this...now?"

Jordan nodded again. "Yes. I won't know if I can deal with my fears until I'm put in a situation where I have to try. I can always take more time off if I need to…I just know that I can't keep on hiding out in my apartment with this whole….event taking over my mind. I need something else to do and something else to think about."

Howard looked her over one more time. "What does the doctor say about you going back to work?"

Jordan sighed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Half-days are best starting out. I still have some soft tissue injuries on my back. I'm in physical therapy….will be for a while. My weight remains an issue, but I'm slowly gaining it back. I think they're more worried about what's happening up here," she motioned to her head, "than what's going on with my body."

"And you feel going back to work at the morgue right now is the next best step for you mentally?"

"Yeah. It's familiar…it's what I do best."

"How do you feel about working with Detective Hoyt again?"

"Woody?"

Howard nodded.

"I…we…I mean, we worked together before this….this happened."

"But you said after his injury, things haven't been the same between you two. Can you handle the stress of that relationship on top of what you've just been through with this cult?" Howard watched her with veiled eyes. During her sessions with him, Jordan had slipped up when she described her rescue from the house. She had told Howard that while she knew Garret and the rest of her morgue family would have been worried about her and alerted the police, she had been surprised that it had been Woody that had actually freed her from her captor. She didn't think he cared enough anymore to even look for her…and how confused she was now with her feelings for him. She had tried to move on with her life after Woody had rebutted her feelings for him, and assumed he already had.

But his gentleness with her…his concern with her injuries had rattled her. Jordan didn't know exactly what to think about Woody.

"We did work together after his shooting…it was sometimes difficult, but we both were always professional," Jordan softly replied. _As a matter of fact, I would rather work with him…I still feel safest around him…_

"So you feel that you could handle that without any major issues?"

Jordan nodded.

Silently scanning her face for any further details, Howard finally complied. "Okay…I will fill out the forms that indicate that you are psychologically ready to return to work. But I'd stay away from trying to solve this case, Jordan. While trying to get retribution and justice for the women that John has killed is very noble, and would seem to be a catalyst for healing for you, it could backfire on you horribly. So that case…."

"Is off limits. I know. Believe me, I know. And that's not an issue with me." Jordan shuddered as she thought about it. While she knew if John was ever caught, she'd be called to testify, the idea of seeing him again washed her body in cold chills.

Jordan wanted him caught. She wanted a trial. She wanted justice.

She just never wanted to have to look at his face again.


	11. Worry

**Chapter Eleven**

**Worry**

Garret kept her in the morgue offices her first week back at work, with everyone following her around, treating her as if she were made of porcelain. In one way Jordan was touched with their care and concern, but in another way it hindered her from her goal of getting her life back to the way it was before her kidnapping – back to normalcy.

"You know, you've got to let me get out of here sometime," she told Garret after she'd been back at work for nearly two weeks. Jordan had finally had too much of being holed up in her office, wading through paperwork and went to accost the chief ME in his office.

"I know…and I plan on it….I just need to make sure you're going to be okay," he replied, not looking up at her from the file he was reading.

"Garret, I'll be fine. But part of me coming back into the morgue was not only to work, but to get my life back on track. And I can't do that just sitting behind a desk. I didn't do it before…and I don't want to do it now just because you think that I might react badly to a situation and not be able to handle it. That's never happened in the past and it's not going to happen now."

"How do you know? How do you know that if you're back out there in the field that something would trigger a reaction to your kidnapping?" Garret shut the file he was reading and laid it on his desk, crossed his arms, and looked her square in the eyes.

"Howard wouldn't have released me for work duty if he felt that might happen."

"And I know in the past you've been able to pull one over on him and me."

Jordan chewed the inside of her lip in an effort to control both her tears and her anger. No one knew how badly she wanted to put this whole incident behind her…although she knew as long as John was out there somewhere, she would always be looking over her shoulder. And she was well aware in the past, she had deliberately fooled Howard and Garret…told them both she was fine when inside she was falling apart…crumpling over either the weight of her mother's murder or Woody's rejection.

But now was not one of those times. She wanted her life back, her health back, and to once again be able to claim her heart as her own. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "But now is not one of those times, Garret. Honestly."

"You're still in counseling with Howard, right?"

"Once a week…more often if I feel I need it."

Garret looked down at the top of his desk for a minute. He had a good idea that Jordan was not going to like what he was about to tell her, but it was for her own good. If she truly thought she was ready to go back out on homicide calls, and if Howard also felt the same, the only way Garret was going to let Jordan back out on the field was under one condition – she go with Woody.

During the time that Jordan had been hospitalized, Garret and Woody had several opportunities to talk. It was only then that Garret understood why Woody rejected Jordan that day while he was hospitalized for the sniper shootings. Woody had explained that during that time he had wondered if he was going to be able to walk again…he didn't want to saddle Jordan with a crippled boyfriend that she stayed with just because she pitied them. Afterwards, he had questioned her timing, as well as the truthfulness behind her confession.

But in the end, it hadn't mattered. Woody still loved her…but the realization had come nearly too late. Jordan moved on with her life and he found himself following suit…only to sabotage any relationship he started with another woman simply because it wasn't Jordan.

And he never thought that he'd ever get Jordan back…that he had hurt her too badly…that he had broken her heart into too many pieces for her to ever trust him again. He had told himself it was for the best…it was better for them each to go their separate ways.

Until the kidnapping…until he was faced with a life without her at all. Then Woody had moved heaven and earth to find her.

And now that Woody had her safely back home, he told Garret that when Jordan was back at the morgue and ready to go out on field calls, there was only one detective he wanted her to work with: him. He knew her background and would take care of her better than anyone.

Garret knew this…as sure as the air he was breathing, Garret knew that Woody would keep Jordan's best interests at heart…over any case, any DA, any perp. Of course, convincing Jordan of this was going to be impossible. So that made what he had to say next unbelievably difficult.

"Okay, Jordan," Garret said with a sigh, looking her straight in the eyes, "I'll release you to go back on field calls on one condition."

"What…. is it?" Jordan slowly asked, the look in Garret's eyes giving her fair warning that she probably wasn't going to like whatever it was he was going to tell her.

"You only go with Woody."

* * *

"Garret, no…." Jordan argued as she followed him out of his office and down the hall. He had ended their discussion abruptly by telling her he was needed in trace and had taken off towards the lab. 

"That's the only way, Jordan."

"But…."

"No but's. Or if's or and's. You're only going out on calls with Woody."

"Garret!"

"Look," Garret paused impatiently at the door of trace. "I understand your hesitancy about answering his calls given the fact that you've avoided him. But it's the only way I'll let you out, Jordan. Woody knows your background and will make sure you're okay…and I won't have to worry."

"I'm not going to break down….."

"Can you guarantee me that?"

"But Howard said…"

"And if Howard ran my morgue, he'd say the same thing. That's it, Jordan. The only way…at least for the next couple of months..." With that, Garret disappeared behind the doors of trace, leaving Jordan to once again deal with the aftermath of her kidnapping and the cult.

* * *

Woody watched her get out of her SUV and head to the crime scene. He had called in his latest homicide to Garret, and holding true to his word, he requested Jordan. _She's still too thin,_ he thought to himself. _But otherwise, she looks pretty good…_

Pretty damn good. Her hair was loose and curling around her face, although right now she was pulling it back in a sloppy ponytail. Dark circles still hugged her eyes, but she still looked a hundred times better than she did when he had found her in that cellar closet.

"Hey," he said, softly to her, approaching her from behind and gently settling his hand on the small of her back. "How's it going, Jordan?"

"Fine…what do we have, Woody?" She pulled away at his touch. A reaction that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Male, probably in his early forties. Security guard found him in the restroom this morning when he was making his rounds…."

"Any ID?"

"A Michael Langstrom…according to his secretary, he has a history of heart problems…"

"And you need me to confirm it."

"The building's owner would appreciate that…."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Well, rigor's set and I'd put the TOD at about ten hours ago…Let me transport him back to the morgue and I'll do the trace and autopsy." Her flat, matter-of-fact voice alarmed him.

"Are you okay with this, Jordan?" he softly asked, gently tugging at her arm to turn her around to face him.

"Me? Yeah, sure, Woody. Why wouldn't I be?"

_Well, because you were held captive by a cult for four months…_ "I was just wondering…"

"Wondering if I had gone completely off the deep end?"

"No…I mean you wouldn't be back at work if there was any question about…"

"I'm fine, Woody…honestly. You don't need to worry about me."

Suddenly the tug on her arm changed as he gently took her face between both of his hands, not caring who was watching, or what would be said later by the other officers on the scene. "But I do, Jordan," he whispered. "I do worry about you…"


	12. I Love You

**Chapter Twelve**

**I Love You**

His actions startled her. This wasn't the Woody she had grown to know and avoid. He seemed more like the Farm Boy that had charmed his way into her heart so many years ago. And if someone hadn't called out to get his attention at that moment, Jordan was sure that he was going to brush her lips with his.

And she couldn't swear she wasn't going to let him.

Then promptly chided herself for falling into old habits. _He's told me he wants me out of his life…I can't forget that…I can't let him break my heart again…_

Jordan assumed Woody's new attitude towards her would pass…it wouldn't last. That somewhere along the way he'd go back to hating her again. But he didn't…he continued to be gentle with her – to a degree he never had before – even before his shooting.

She tried to shrug it off, especially as she was still working through her mental state after her months with the sisters and John…but as she continued to talk with Dr. Stiles, more and more questions kept coming to her mind about what was going on with Woody while she was with the cult…especially as Woody continued to be gentle…almost loving with her again. She was beginning to wonder about his frame of mind as much as she did her own.

But Jordan kept those thoughts to herself as she continued to get on with her life…thinking and believing that his new attitude towards her would diminish with time. Only it didn't…and as a result her questions continued to grow.

It took a thunderstorm to finally get the answers she had wanted to know.

Jordan had worked through many of her fears that had sprung from her time with John. She knew that while he was out there, somewhere, the chances of him coming back for her were slim. She had learned to go to her car from the morgue without constantly looking over her shoulder, not to jump at the bumps in the night, but a thunderstorm could bring her past reeling back to her in a heartbeat.

She and Woody had been working on a case….a hard one, involving a hit and run. Jordan had performed the autopsy. It had been a long day, spilling over into an even longer night…they were in her office going over the notes when the skies opened, the rain poured, and the thunder boomed.

All at once, in her mind, Jordan was back on the porch of that house after John had beaten her. She jumped in alarm, but hoped Woody didn't notice.

But he did. Walking over to where she stood with her back to the window, he gently rubbed his hands down her arms. "Hey….what's the matter?" he asked. "It's just a thunderstorm."

To him, it was…but not to her. She still remembered being tied up…John raising the belt…instinctively she ducked her head and tried to make a run for the door.

Only to have Woody catch her. "What's wrong, Jordan? It's just a little storm…what's the matter with you?"

"It's…it's the storm…"

His puzzled look plainly told her Woody had no idea where she was coming from. And the next boom of thunder had her shaking in his arms. "Jordan? What is it?"

_If he would just hold me a minute…and let me shut this storm out…I'd be okay…I know I would…_

As if on cue, his arms tightened around her again, but he still wanted an explanation. He steered her toward the couch in her office and sat her down, with his arms still around her. "What about the storm, Jo?"

Another clap of thunder had her burrowing her head in his neck. "I'm scare of storms…." she whispered.

Gently brushing the hair out of her eyes, but willing to sit with her for however long it took to get her over her fright, he softly asked, "What makes you afraid, Jordan? It's just a little lightning and some noise…"

"I know…it's just….that I tried to escape one night…when I was with the sisters….and to punish me, John tied me up, beat me….and left me out on the porch all night during a really bad thunderstorm…" Jordan shuddered against him again at the terror the memory was bringing back to her.

If possible, Woody held Jordan even more snugly against him, gently rocking her until the storm had passed and she calmed down. "Sh…it's okay…it's okay…Jordan, baby, it's okay…John can't get you here and nothing bad is going to happen…I promise…"

"I know…it's just that the storms….they make me feel like I'm still there…helpless….and there's nothing I can do but wait on you to come and take me away."

Woody wasn't sure how to reply to her last comment, so he just held her and continued to rock her gently until he felt her pull away from him just a little. Taking a deep breath, she looked him in the eyes and asked him the question that had been bothering her for weeks. "Woody…why did you come after me? Not why was I looked for….I know that, I was missing…but Roz had the missing person report on me…why did you come after me?"

There was a dozen different ways he could have answered that question…he was the lead detective on the case of the murdered women….he began following the leads….the morgue staff had clued him in and wanted him to handle finding her….but all of those would only be half-truths, and Woody was sure Jordan had heard enough half-lies and whole-lies to last her the rest of her life. So he told her the truth…"I had to, Jordan. I had to…despite everything between us…I had to come after you because I knew I could find you and I had to make sure you were all right…that you were found before John could harm you any more than he already did."

"Why were you so worried about me? I mean, from what you've said in the past…I didn't think I mattered to you any more."

"Do you know how I would have felt if you were the next victim, Jordan?" Woody asked his voice just a bit sharp around the edges. "Do you know what that would have done to me to answer a homicide call and discover it was you that he had beaten and then cut the heart out of? It would have killed me…" he held her face between his hands and looked deep into her eyes so that there was no way she couldn't know that he wasn't telling the truth. "I realized…while you were gone…what my life would be like without you, Jordan Cavanaugh. Lonely. Depressing. Not worth living. That's what it's like when you lose someone you love…"

_Love?_ At the mention of the word from his lips, she felt warmth in her that she thought she had lost forever…"You … do?" she hesitantly asked.

A slow smile crossed Woody's face as his hands moved from her head to her hair, gently anchoring themselves inher chestnut curls. "Yeah…I do. I love you, Jordan."


	13. Hold Me Until Tomorrow

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Hold Me Until Tomorrow**

Jordan stretched and tried to roll over, but couldn't. There was a weight that kept her in one place, snuggled up to a warmth she had nearly given up dreaming about. Gently trailing her index finger along the arm that kept her in this position, she felt his muscles flex in protest. "Tell me it's not time to get up," Woody whispered softly in her ear.

"I'm afraid so, Farm Boy," she whispered back, managing to turn her head and catch his lips in a soft, early morning kiss.

"Thank God it's at least Friday," he said against her mouth as his arm left her side and proceeded to let his hand trail slowly up her ribs to cup her breast, all the while still kissing her, moving his mouth from her lips to the column of her neck.

"Umm…yeah, thank God for small blessings," she managed to get out. When Woody held her like this she swore she couldn't manage to string together two coherent thoughts, much less a complete sentence. "Woody," she gasped as his lips found the peak of her breast and drew it into his mouth, "We'll be late for work…"

"Not if we shower together…" he murmured against her, turning his attention to her other breast now, and his other hand sliding up between her thighs.

"If we do that we'll definitely be late for work…and if I'm late again this week, Garret swore he'd dock my pay…"

Woody chuckled against her, but swooped down and gave her one more hard, quick kiss on the lips. "Then I suggest we both go in early, get off early…come back home and pick up where we just left off?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she replied, reaching for her housecoat. "Do you want to shower first or should I?"

"Go ahead…I don't have to be in until 9:30 anyway," he answered, reaching for his cell phone that was buzzing in its cradle beside the bed.

Jordan pulled the garment around her and flashed him a smile as she headed for the shower. The last three months had been more wonderful than she ever could imagined with Woody…his presence had dispelled most of her fears and their new-found love had driven out the shadows of any other demons from the past that had been plaguing either one of them. She sighed with contentment as the hot water sprayed down her back and legs…Thank God this was Friday and they had the weekend together…it didn't happen often, but sometimes the stars aligned themselves just right and they had the same time off. And now was one of those times.

She toweled herself dry and went back into the bedroom to get ready for work. Woody was still on his cell phone, but had moved into the living room. It was strange…Jordan always thought that if she was at least serious enough to the point where a guy was spending an inordinate amount of time in her apartment, she might go crazy with him invading her personal space all the time.

Not so with Woody. It was warm…comforting….home. She wondered again for the zillionth time why it took her so long to realize that they belonged together. Moving from the bedroom to the kitchen to flip on the coffeemaker, she heard him tell the caller bye and flip his phone shut. "Need to go in early?" she questioned him, pulling down the coffee cups from the cabinet at the same time.

"No….not at all." He was smiling at her in a different way than he was a while ago. Gone was the seductive hint in his eyes…this time they held a glint of something she couldn't put her finger on. "Are you going to be in your office all day?" he asked, taking his cup from her.

"Unless Garret has me out on the field…I'm scheduled for a round of trace with Nigel and two autopsies later this afternoon."

"Sounds like fun….I'll be by around lunch time….say, one-ish?"

She nodded absent-mindedly as she put on her coat and got ready to go out the door. "Be careful?" she admonished.

Woody gave her one more quick kiss. "You, too."

As the day progressed and Jordan moved from trace to autopsy, one o'clock rolled by with no sight of Woody. Not too alarmed, she figured by two, she'd definitely see him. Then two came and went. She called his cell phone. He didn't answer. But given the strange variations of his job as a detective, she tried not to worry too much. Then three o'clock passed. Finally the doors to the elevator slid open and Woody came to her office. "Sorry I'm late…" he said apologetically, propping himself against her door.

"It's okay…but I was worried…"

He shut her door, came around to where she was sitting at her desk and pulled her up into his arms. "I think you'll forgive me when you find out why I was late…"

"I'll forgive you anyway…but why are you late?"

"That call I got this morning before you left for work…"

Jordan nodded. She remembered. He had been pretty engrossed in it.

"It was the Oregon State Police…they caught John."

Jordan felt as if Woody had sucked all the air out of her lungs at one time. Since she and Woody had been together, they hadn't spoken the man's name often, but Woody was keenly aware that Jordan still held a deep-seated fear that the man would come back for her…even though the odds of that were extremely small. Although with Howard's help and Woody's love she was working through her ordeal, the fact that John remained loose on society bothered Jordan more than she ever let on.

It was on the nights that the man would show up in her dreams that she managed to snuggle up even closer in Woody's arms and let him hold her as tightly as he would… "John can't get you…I've got you," he would always say.

And the fear would vanish for a while…as long as Woody would hold her.

The possibility that the man was now caught and her fears could be put at rest forever was a prospect she hardly dared to even dream about. "They're sure?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to fully embrace her good luck until she knew for certain.

"Absolutely. That's one reason I'm late…I've been on the phone, fax, e-mail, and everything in between with Oregon. He's caught. It's over, Jordan." Woody smoothed her hair behind her ear and traced his knuckles down the side of her face, taking in her wide, disbelieving eyes. "It's over…" he repeated.

"It's really over," she repeated. "Over…."

"Feel like celebrating?"

Oddly enough, Jordan didn't. The thought of going out to a restaurant with lights and music and dancing didn't appeal to her right now at all. She thought that if John was ever caught, she'd be ready to shout it from the mountain tops that she was finally free from the ordeal.

Instead, all she could think about was the twenty-one women who had lost their lives at the hands of this lunatic.

That and the man in front of her who had helped her dispel her fears and move on with life. "Tell you what," she countered, rising up on her tiptoes to lightly kiss him on his lips. "I'll make you a deal…"

"Okay…" Woody's voice trailed off and one eyebrow rose in suspicion as he wondered just what Jordan's "deal" entailed.

"I'll order the pizzas…you bring the beer….and we'll have a nice, quiet celebration of our own at home…"

"Ohhhhh Dr. Cavanaugh. I like your deal very much….very, very much….but what's the catch?" The second eyebrow joined the first at his hairline.

"The catch is that….after dinner…and maybe a movie….we pick back up where we left off this morning…"

"Which, if I remember correctly was right about here," Woody replied, his hands resuming their naughty positions that time had interrupted that earlier.

"Seems to be the place," Jordan replied breathlessly…"and afterwards…"

"Afterwards…." Woody's lips found the soft hollow at the base of her throat.

"You get to hold me until tomorrow…."


End file.
